I've been clearing my head for over a week now.

I handed my paper to the professor and didn't miss the look he gave me but I ignored him as I quickly headed back to my dorm. Dealing with Nicholas would just have to wait. I thought as I hurriedly ran across the fields of grass. Today was my final exam and as much as I just wanted to wait a few hours, or even a day to hang out with my friends before having to say good bye until next semester, I couldn't.

My mom had kept me abreast of all things dad and I knew today was surgery day. Without missing a breath I arrived and literally bolted into my room in search of my phone; and was happy to find the room empty. It didn't take me long to locate the small device on my bed and I was just a frame out of reach as I missed a call from my mom. The screen displayed the ten calls I missed and before I could begin to read one of the many texts on display, she called again.

"Mom? What's wrong?" I asked, heart in hands.

"Chris... baby. You need to get home."

"What's wrong mom? What did the doctor say?"

"Just hurry home baby."

Her voice broke before she could even finish her last statement and somehow I just knew.

"Mom please, just tell me... tell me what's going on."

"The surgery..." she began, words barely coherent "something... somehow... I don't know... oh God... I'm so sorry baby."

"Mom-" I sobbed, not wanting her to continue but needing to hear it all at the same time.

"They couldn't... they couldn't save him."

The room seemed like it was spinning faster than physically possible yet somehow stiller than the art of slow motion. My heart was racing, thoughts running at mac speed; my body was numb beyond compare and the visions before my eyes merged into one unmistakable blank screen. I heard the words being spoken but somehow the place fell silent. Even with all her screams and loud sobs I still couldn't hear clearly.

My dad had died.

Something that I thought humanly impossible... from a man I considered to be invincible... had come true and somehow, the news hadn't sunk in as yet. Every thing that happened next up until the next few days felt like the plot of a sad movie, one I never wished to see again but somehow ended up living.

Gravity began to overpower me and I no longer could sustain myself. My feet gave way beneath me and I landed on my knees as my phone fell from my grasp.

It's impossible, he's not dead.

The man that always encouraged me to be who I am, to never hold back, to keep fighting for what I believed in... was gone?

The man who knew what I wanted to say even before I knew how to form the words and who promised me that he'd never leave me... never stop loving me... no longer existed?

The man who taught me to be a man and taught me that the things I loved didn't define how much of a man I was. That loving to cook and keep my surroundings clean and get good grades and watch beauty channels and Disney was okay things for a boy to do rather than playing in the dirt and getting into fights and smoking... how am I supposed to believe that the face that always looked tired but never stopped smiling or the hands that was always rough from work but gave tender hugs or the voice that rarely spoke but knew all the right things to say... had suddenly stopped being?

It's impossible, it's just not real.

I tried convincing myself that it was all just a dream, that somehow my family wanted to pull some sick, twisted prank on me for not visiting home as often... but then the memory started flooding my brain and a bit of my reality started to kick in and the man inside of me just refused to come out, allowing me to do the one thing I promised myself I would never do.

I cried.

I cried like I did the first time I was led to play school on that first day when I had to let go of my dad's hand... but this time... this time, it was worse.

My head was buried on my lap as my knees was pressed against my chest and even when I heard the door open and the trio enter, I never ceased. I vaguely heard the quiet whispering and the shuffling of feet (well maybe my mind perceived it as quiet) before I felt someone sit besides me on the floor and felt hands pulling me into a hug.

The strong smell of Damon surrounded me and I swear I could have gotten drunk off it. His smell reminded me of my dad from when I was a child and I'd fall asleep in his arm and that really caused my vocals to start working. Damon tightened his grip as I got louder and I could feel him tense near me. This would be the second time he's seen me cry but the first time I've ever made a sound.

We just sat there for who knows how long, me trying and failing to get myself under control and him just rubbing my back as I buried my head against his neck. When I could finally breath again and tears refused to flow I heard Damon speak since entering.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He whispered and just the thought made me want to cry all over again.

For the life of me I couldn't form the right words and although I knew he just cared... I couldn't move pass one word.

Dead.

I said it maybe a thousand times without really realizing that I did and even when I made it to my seat on the plane and Damon buckled me in, I still mumbled the word. Damon was my hand and foot for those two days of traveling and although I would never admit it to his face, I was glad he was here.